


Soften My Life With Your Love

by sevdepayne



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fenerbahçe, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, I can't believe I wrote a fic only 5 people is going to read, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/pseuds/sevdepayne
Summary: "He isn’t a highly devout guy, but for once in his life, Michael silently gives thanks to whoever’s up there for making his path cross with Diego’s."





	Soften My Life With Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youmeafterthegame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeafterthegame/gifts).



> To Eda: I can't believe I sat down and wrote a 2700 words-length fic for a ship no one besides us is shipping, but hey, after that horrible start in the league we deserved it! Also I still owe you one because I definitely haven't written that Draxlembe fic you requested MONTHS AGO, but hey, I promise I'll write it someday eventually. (spoilers: She didn't.)
> 
> \---  
> So here I am, presenting you yet another Fenerbahce ship, cause I have zero impulse control and start shipping people the moment I see them side by side. The characters are [ Diego Reyes](https://www.instagram.com/diego_reyes13/?hl=en) and [Michael Frey](https://www.instagram.com/frey_michi?hl=en), who happen to be Fenerbahce's new players. They came here like 10 minutes ago but we're already shipping them so much, cause once again, we're beyond salvageable at this point. 
> 
> Their ship name is FREYES because as the co-founders of the ship we decided as such.
> 
> The title is from Darlin' by The Beach Boys.
> 
> Enjoy!

When his agent tells him that a Turkish club is interested in him, Michi doesn’t even wait for the man to finish his sentence. He barely remembers the team’s name from a few times he watched the infamous “Intercontinental Derby” with his friends, and to be honest, playing in Turkey is less than ideal for a player in his age, but Michi is willing to go to any team that isn’t located in Switzerland. Or Germany, for that matter.

His agent keeps talking and talking about the boring details and even tries to persuade him to stay in Zurich for at least another season, but it is all in vain. Considering Michael has spent the majority of their meeting with daydreaming about what kind of house he should rent in Istanbul and how many luggages will he need to make sure all of his stuff are coming to his new home with him, his agent is wasting his time with a battle he can never win. 

After the meeting is over and he gives strict orders to his agent that this transfer should happen immediately, he goes straight back to his flat and finds the empty boxes he has stored away since his last move. His family and friends would probably warn him that he should wait till the negotiations is resulted, but Michi is so relieved that he’s going to leave this chapter of his life behind him, it’s impossible for him to sit around doing nothing.

Later that night, he orders a pizza and eats his dinner among his half-packed stuff, and for the first time since that spring, he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be swallowed alive by the ground he’s being sitting on crossed-leg. 

Michael isn’t someone who carries feelings like nostalgia or longing in his heart when he’s about to make a career move, and he isn’t planning on making an exception for Zurich, the city and the club alike.

He decides to stalk the club a bit while enjoying his food, and sees that the club’s birthday is the same with his own, he takes it as a good sign. 

\---

A few days later, his agent sends him a message that involves only a thumbs-up emoji, and Michi lets out a breath he’s been holding ever since he’s gotten the first offer from the club.

Eight hours after the message, he’s waiting for his flight to take off, and one of the cabin attendants brings him a glass of champagne that isn’t ordered by the striker. The attendant tells him that the pilot has sent the drink, cause apparently the man is a huge Fenerbahçe fan and wants Michael to enjoy his flight. 

The pilot’s gesture is odd for him, it’s something that never happened to him before. He politely accepts the drink and goes back to his search for a place to rent nearby the training grounds, with a tiny smile attached to his lips. Apparently, that tiny smile has decided to keep him company during the whole flight, and well, Michi can survive  _ smiling _ despite his friends’ past claims.

Only when he passes the passport check and sees hundreds of fans screaming his name, Michael realizes that his new club is actually way bigger than he has imagined, and he may have bitten more than he can chew.

The director of the club, Comolli, welcomes him in the VIP lounge, ushers him to a polished black car with tinted windows, away from the fans who have been chanting Michael’s name nonstop, even though he hasn’t even signed the contract yet. Comolli pours himself a whiskey and leans back, and starts talking about the importance of Fenerbahçe and what is expected from him. Not that Michi needs someone to explain the club’s greatness for him to understand, because what he has witnessed in the airport is more than enough for him to comprehend. 

When they’ve reached to the training grounds, it leaves no doubt in his mind that this is the biggest club he’s ever played for.

“We will sign your contract tomorrow and have a little press conference afterwards. We decided to make your signing and Reyes’ at the same time, and his flight will be landed later, in about a few hours,” Comolli says, not even bothering to explain who the hell Reyes is to begin with. Michi opens his mouth to ask, but the man is walking and talking so fast that it’s impossible to catch him up. 

Comolli knocks at someone’s door, and a bald, tall, and also shirtless guy answers it. However, it’s evident from the director’s face that the bald guy isn’t the one he’s been looking for, and his somewhat over-dramatic eye roll is an evidence for the displeasure Michi has been suspecting. 

“Can you please wake the princess up, Prince Charming?” he asks to the bald guy. Not that Michael would ever mention it but apparently, the director doesn’t have the basic knowledge about the Disney characters. Cause, well, the guy he’s been talking to doesn’t look like Prince Charming at all.

Michi keeps his distance but then the older man motions him to come closer and he goes there like a well trained puppy. Only when the guy Comolli has been waiting for comes out, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes Michi understands the Prince Charming reference from earlier.

“Michael, this is Roman,” he introduces them. “And this is Martin. They’re joined by the hip, so don’t expect to see them separately.”

After quick introductions and handshakes Comolli leaves him with Roman and Martin, claiming that Michael and Roman should be best friends now because they both speak German. Well, Michi would be up for it but then Martin throws him a single look that can be read as “I’ll chop your dick off if you get too familiar with Roman”, and he discards that idea immediately. 

When he sits in the same table as Roman and Martin for lunch, Michi remembers the other dude who’s going to sign his contract with him. He looks around the room to see if someone who looks like a  _ Reyes _ is arrived or not, but fails miserably because, well, so far he only knows Roman, Martin, and a couple of youngsters he has seen in the coach’s office.

Roman and Martin seem like they’ve been in the team for a long time, and Michael decides that if anyone would know who is a Reyes and who is not, it’d be one of his babysitters. 

“So, does any of you know a Reyes in this team?”

\---

He gets to meet with Reyes only ten minutes before the event, and those ten minutes have been enough for Michi to realize that him and Reyes are completely different people.

“Call me Diego,” the other player says while they’re shaking hands, with a smile so bright that Michi briefly thinks that he needs sunglasses just so that he can look at him without squinting. “You must be Michael,” he adds in a broken English, completely butchering Michael’s name in pronunciation. 

“Michi is fine,” he says, and yeah, if it were anyone else, he’d definitely correct them and he’d do so rather rudely, but Diego has an aura full of positivity and happiness around him that Michi can’t help but to go along with it. 

They have the press conference first and it’s so boring that Michi has to mentally slap himself a few times to keep himself awake, and Diego is probably in a worse state than he lets on because of the jetlag. The reporters keep asking both of them almost the exact same questions, and halfway through Diego’s answer to another generic question, Michael finds himself studying the Mexican’s features.

Only when Diego finishes his sentence and leans back to let the interpreter do his job Michi feels a pinch in his left leg. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” the defender whispers without moving his lips. “The reporters will be all over it if you sleep right now.”

He mumbles a  _ thank you _ to the man while trying to ignore the blush that’s been creeping up his neck. It’s not like he’s been staring at the man with  _ intent, _ but he still can’t help but acting like a teenager who’s been caught by their crush. 

It’s all his goddamn artistic side’s fault, really. 

After the reporters run out of cheesy questions to ask, they sign the contracts and hold their new jerseys high up so that the press can have something to use, proudly showing their new numbers. 22 and 23, one comes after the other, just like how they have come to this new home far away from their own. 

The club’s employees bring them downstairs so that they can see inside of the stadium for the first time, and it feels weirdly natural for Michi that he’s experiencing this with Diego. Not that he’s getting too attached to a guy he’s only met an hour ago. It’s only because Diego is a good company, and shares the excitement and wonder Michi has been experiencing since they’ve stepped foot on the natural grass for the first time.

When the interpreter says that they have to leave the stadium in ten minutes so that they can join the rest of the team for the training, Diego gives his phone to Michi and tells him to save his own number so that they can keep in touch. It’s the logical thing to do, considering both of them stay in the same hotel, but still, Michi is kinda impressed by the defender’s straight-forwardness. If it were him, it’d take at least 5 to 15 business days for them to exchange numbers.

They’re back inside the black polished car with tinted windows when Michael thinks “Fuck it,” and hands his phone to Diego, the Instagram app is open and the search bar is ready. “So that I can tag you in pictures, you know,” he says rather inaudibly. 

It’s a new chapter in their lives, and of course, there are worse ways to start a new journey than starting it with a nice companion.

\---

The trainings are intense, the faces he sees every day are not strangers anymore but also not that familiar, the pressure is too high because of the disappointing results from the previous weeks, the rules are completely different… 

Despite all of that, Michi finds comfort in the new environment he’s in. Sure, the atmosphere inside the team is not the best, what with the position they stand in the league and being eliminated from the Champions League, but it only makes him more resilient to the exhausting drills they’ve been doing during trainings and gym sessions, makes him want to success more and more every single day. With each passing day Michael feels a bit more eager for his debut day, even though his eagerness is blended with anxiety.  

Having Diego by his side is also a blessing, even though half of the time he has no idea what the man is saying, and he’s pretty sure that Diego has trouble in understanding him sometimes. But somehow, they manage to fall into an easy routine, knocking on each other’s door in the mornings so that they can have breakfast together, driving to the training, keeping each other company during lunch, then driving back to the hotel after a physically exhausting day… Michael is getting used to the extremely cheerful songs Diego likes to listen in the mornings, he even catches himself while humming along with some of them.

Apparently the staff is aware of their mutually-agreed daily routines, cause one of the assistants approaches to them with their interpreter in tow, shyly handing them a set of room keys and explains that they’re required to stay in the training center before the game days. “The coach says you two can share a room because you’re basically living together anyway.”

Both of them uses the opportunity to bond with their other teammates, joining them in the lounge and getting to know the others. They all look like decent lads, and Michael is actually surprised when he has found out that most of the other newcomers are younger than him. Out of the corner of his eye, he checks Diego every once in a while, but the Mexican looks like he’s doing fine, happily socialising with Soldado in their mother-tongue.

Around 10 p.m. the coach tells everyone to go and have a good night’s sleep. He warns them not to exhaust themselves too much, his eyes are lingering on Roman and Martin the most, but two of the youngsters get their share of meaningful glances. Michael has no idea how the hell they could exhaust themselves while  _ sleeping.  _

\---

Ever since he learned to read and write, Michael has a habit of reading for at least half an hour before sleeping. However, it seems rather impossible for him to continue his reading when Diego is tossing and turning on the opposite side of the room. 

After re-reading the same sentence for the sixth time and still not fully comprehending its meaning, Michael decides to figure out what’s been bothering the other man. 

“Diego, what’s going on?” he asks carefully, with a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I can’t sleep. That damn jetlag.”

“It’s been five days since we came here, Diego, and you’ve been sleeping just fine,” Michael states. “Is it because of the game?”

No answers. 

After ten minutes of silence filled with Diego’s huffs and puffs and Michael’s aimless staring at the ceiling, he hears footsteps approaching to his bed. Only seconds later, the Mexican is sitting on the edge of his bed, not looking up from the ground. It takes another five minutes for him to make eye contact with Michi. 

“What are you reading?” Diego asks quietly, as if there’s a sleeping baby in the room.

“Uhh, Julius Caesar, by Shakespeare.”

Diego grins at that, and Michael has no idea what’s so funny about him reading Shakespeare, but he’s happy to see him smile nevertheless. “Fancy,” he says while still grinning. “Read aloud so that maybe it can lull me into sleep.”

“This book is in German though?”

“What does it matter? It all depends on how much of a good reader you are. Now scoot over, I’m sleeping here tonight.”

Before Michael can say anything, Diego is pulling the covers over them, not even bothering to take his own pillow from his bed, using his torso like it’s a comfy pillow. Not that it makes Michael uncomfortable, not at all, but what’s the point of reading aloud a book written in German to someone who definitely doesn’t know the language at all?

He picks up his book from the nightstand without any protest, and starts reading from where he has left.

_ “Der Strom der menschlichen Geschäfte wechselt; _ __  
_ Nimmt man die Flut wahr, führet sie zum Glück; _ __  
_ Versäumt man sie, so muß die ganze Reise _ __  
_ Des Lebens sich durch Not und Klippen winden. _ __  
_ Wir sind nun flott auf solcher hohen See _ __  
_ Und müssen, wenn der Strom uns hebt, ihn nutzen; _ _  
_ __ Wo nicht, geht unser schwimmend Gut verloren.”

When he finishes the passage, Michi hears Diego giggling against his chest, and the giggles he let on tickles him a bit through his shirt. “I have no idea what you’re saying but I like the way you say it,” mumbles the Mexican. “Keep going.”

And Michael is more than happy to oblige.

\---

He’s finished the part he’s been reading when he hears soft, tiny snores Diego let on, and Michael has no idea when he has started stroking the Mexican’s hair idly, but he’d be a damn liar if he claims that he doesn’t like this. He’d be the greatest liar of all time. 

Michael puts his book to the nightstand carefully so that the man who’s been sleeping in his arms won’t wake up, and turns off his bedside lamp. Only when it’s pitch-dark inside the room Michael feels courageous enough to tighten his arms around Diego, and plants the tiniest kiss on his hair. 

He isn’t a highly devout guy, but for once in his life, Michael silently gives thanks to whoever’s up there for making his path cross with Diego’s.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- The passage Michael has read is really from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene III. The English translation of the passage is: "There is a tide in the affairs of men/Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune;/Omitted, all the voyage of their life/Is bound in shallows and in miseries./On such a full sea are we now afloat,/And we must take the current when it serves,/Or lose our ventures. 
> 
> (sounds fitting, don't you think?)
> 
> \- If you're wondering (you probably don't but still....), there's a photo from their signing ceremony. You can find it [here.](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/post/177601617967/youmeafterthegame)
> 
> \- Kudos/Comments are always appreciated. Also, you can find me on


End file.
